


Clepsydra

by Circles In The Desert (KinoKahn)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinoKahn/pseuds/Circles%20In%20The%20Desert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Science Sector begins toying with Miranda's Innocence, a portal to the previous decade is accidentally opened. Allen manages to get himself pulled in, and now Kanda is the only one who can find a six-year-old Moyashi and drag him back to the Order. Rated T for Kanda's sailor mouth.<br/>2017 AN: this work is abandoned. Sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a disclaimer that I'm mostly leaving just to make /myself/ more comfortable posting this fic. Yes, Kanda does spend a lot of time with six-year-old Allen. However, there's not going to be any romance/inappropriate interaction between them because, well, Allen's six. So if you're looking for shotacon/whatever, you're not going to find it here. I wanted to write this fic because Allen meets young Kanda twice in canon (once when Kanda simply takes on a younger physical form, during the whole zombie-attack arc, and again during the Alma Arc), and I wanted to see how a reversal of that would play out.
> 
> NOTE (as of 2017): this work is abandoned and, despite promises to the contrary in the notes chapters 6+7, will mostly likely never ever be finished. I'm sorry; I tend to not finish things I've started which is why I've learned to only post a fic, even multi-chapter ones, once I've completed it.

Kanda had just sliced through the last level three akuma on the field when his little black golem started buzzing around his head in rapid-fire circles. Kanda swatted the golem away, and it began to play a transmission in response, barely audible over the sound of the akuma's soulless shell exploding: "Kanda, return to the Order immediately. You have a new mission; replacements are being sent and will be to your field by dusk."

What the hell? He was nearly done with this mission, and for fuck's sake the finder hadn't even managed to get herself killed yet. Things were going _well_.

There were still a few level ones floating around, and Kanda took the time to dispatch them before heading towards the little disgustingly hot oasis town. The finder—who had cleverly made herself scarce when the fight amped up—dutifully followed him and tracked down a phone, as her own communication equipment had been totaled in a near-miss from a level two.

"Komui, I'm nearly done with this damned mission, I've even got a lead to where the damned innocence is, why the hell are you recalling me right now?"

Komui's voice was brittle with stress and—surprisingly—impatient. "You're to return immediately. There's a train leaving from Siwa in about fifteen minutes, and it'll take you to the Mersa Matruh gate. Lenalee and Lavi are already on their way to take over. Leave your finder in Siwa with whatever information you want relayed to those two."

"Why the hell can't _I_ finish _my_ mission?"

"I'll explain when you get here. Don't miss your train, consider this an emergency."

"Just send the debriefing materials and I'll go straight to that fucking mission, why do I have to come back to the Order?"

"Your mission is here at the Order. Don't miss your train, and contact me immediately if there's any hold up. We don't know how long the gates will last." The line clicked into static.

Kanda slammed the phone down on its receiver hard enough that the kindly merchant lending it jumped and the finder tsk'd at him.

"I'm going," Kanda said, "train leaves in fifteen."

"Can't we just take one tomorrow? I'm hungry," the finder whose name Kanda hadn't bothered to learn—it's not like she'd last long—complained. Kanda began walking towards the train station and she followed.

"You're as bad as that fucking Moyashi. And you're not coming with me, so go do whatever you fucking want. Lenalee and Lavi are coming to replace me. Komui said it's an emergency, and that the damned Ark gates could give out before I get to one."

The finder stopped, miniature dust clouds settling around her boots. "Gates giving out? Allen's the one sustaining them. That would only happen if…"

Kanda's stomach clenched and the gears in his mind began to pick up speed. He didn't respond, and the finder finished her thought: "That'd only happen if something went wrong with Allen."

The Fourteenth? Did the take-over happen? If so… why the hell was he needed back at the Order? What could he do to save Allen?

Kanda spent the train ride trying to sleep, and when that didn't work, meditating. His stomach twisted too painfully though, and everything felt a bit hazy. His mind kept wandering back to the beansprout, and the aching question of _what the fuck did Allen get himself into_?

 

Komui stood at the gate's entrance, tapping his boot against the stone floors, when Kanda arrived. Before Kanda could even open his mouth, the man had grabbed his shirt sleeve and was pulling—nearly dragging—Kanda towards the Science Sector.

"Wait, my mission involves the _Science Department_?" Kanda hissed. He pulled his arm away from Komui's grasp and matched Komui's hurried stride.

"Tragically," Komui replied. He didn't elaborate, and his lips were pursed into a thin line.

"Just what the fuck is going on?"

Komui stopped before a set of large wooden doors which Kanda avoided at all costs. The last time he'd been in the Science Sector—at the Black Order's old facility—he'd been turned into a _child_ and then a _zombie_. Repeats weren't necessary. But Komui pushed the doors open and yanked Kanda inside.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Kanda noticed was a large white glowing _thing_. It looked like one of Allen’s arc gates, but it was circular instead of hard angles, and whatever it was made of seemed to be swirling and giving off a fog that clung to the floor.

Next to the white _thing_ was Miranda, sitting on one of the Sector’s stools, clutching her time record, near tears, and surrounded by a mess of scientific devices that seemed to be measuring her pulse while taking readings off the gate.

“I’m sorry!” she said as soon as Kanda and Komui walked in, but Johnny was already there, patting her back.

“Don’t apologize! You didn’t do anything wrong!” Johnny said with a shaky grin. The Central Watch Dog was leaned against a table across from Miranda, scowling at the entire scene.

Kanda remained in the door way.

“We’ve got ourselves a bit of a problem,” Komui said slowly, each word chosen after a short deliberation. He turned to face Kanda, his back to the gate.

Kanda’s jaw tightened and he nodded. “And my ‘mission’ somehow involves whatever the fuck problem you’ve created, I take it.” He gripped Mugen’s hilt and started eyeing the things he could slice. Beakers, lab tables, books, scientists.

“Assuming my math and theories are correct,” Komui replied, “we believe you’re the only one who can pull Allen out of that thing.” He pointed a thumb towards the white gate. Cash Dopp peeked out from behind it, holding what looked like a stethoscope attached to a meter, and nodded.

“Looks like you’re right on the temporal reversal measurements, Section Leader.”

Temporal reversal?

“Just tell me what my fucking mission is so I can get over with it.”

 

Komui’s office was drowning in paperwork and books and maps as always. They were alone, except for that Central Watch Dog leaning against the door, arms crossed and brows furrowed enough to create deep creases in his forehead that nearly hid those two moles. Kanda sat on the couch, long legs crossed, and Komui paced behind his desk, gripping his chin with his thumb and index finger.

“I guess it’s easiest to explain from the beginning.” Komui took a deep breath and leaned back against his desk. He began to inspect the lines in his hand as he spoke. “We were trying to push Miranda a bit, seeing if maybe she had some tricks up her sleeve that she hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to try out. So, we brought her into the lab, set some controlled conditions, and with some manipulation, we were able to compress her time record’s zone of influence into a single vertical plane of time-reversal, and with a bit of a push and some external—“

“Komui.”

Komui looked up and nodded at Kanda. “Sorry, I’ll keep the technicalities to a minimum. I guess the easy way to say it is… we’ve created a parallel time line.”

“A what?” Kanda said through gritted teeth.

“It would be unfair to call it a parallel _universe_ , so we’ve decided on _time line_. It’s temporary in essence, and as soon as Miranda deactivates her power, it looks like the timeline will collapse and anyone and everyone inside of it will cease to exist. However, it doesn’t affect _our_ past, and thus can’t affect _our_ future or present. It’s essentially a little branch-off from our timeline that dead ends whenever Miranda decides it should dead end.”

“And Moyashi’s in there?”

Komui nodded. Kanda jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Link.

“Why the hell isn’t Moyashi’s babysitter doing this?”

Link made a vague growling noise and Kanda couldn’t help but to smirk. Watch dog, all right.

“Based on Reever’s calculations, which appear to be accurate based on the irradiation readings and declination rates, it appears that, if you step into Miranda’s plane, you return to who you were and where you were at that point in time. The current parallel sits at a little over a decade ago, so if I were to step into it I’d be my 10-year-younger-self, doing whatever I was then. These are all extrapolations, of course. So right now, Allen is currently his six-year-old self, more or less, since we don’t know his _exact_ age.”

Kanda snorted. “You’re sending me back in time to get a child. Why doesn’t Allen just come back himself?”

“Allen would have if he were able to. However, it also seems that you become who you were ten years ago not just physically, but mentally as well. Allen doesn’t know he’s supposed to come back, and anyone who goes in there to save him won’t remember that’s what they’re there for or who Allen even is. Not to mention the gate would drop them off in a completely different location than where Allen is currently. So do you understand why _you_ have to do this mission, and no one else?”

Kanda pressed his fingers to his temples and swallowed. He’d kill the Science Sector once this was all said and done. Might as well get rid of Central’s Watch Dog while he was at it. Moyashi deserved at least a good beating.

“Kanda,” Komui said slowly. His eyes slid from Kanda’s hunched form to Link, who still leaned against the door. “You didn’t _exist_ ten and a half years ago.”

Kanda swallowed again.

“You don’t have a former self to revert to, so you’ll stay who you are. You’ll remember what you’re supposed to do. You’ve gotta get in there, grab Allen, and pull him back out.”

Kanda chewed the inside of his mouth until he tasted copper and looked back up at Komui, who was staring blankly at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry we’re getting you caught up in the Science Department’s experiments again, Kanda. But you’re the only one we can rely on to get this done.” Komui’s gaze came back down and met Kanda’s. “You know as well as any of us how vital Allen is to the Order.”

“How long do I have?”

“Miranda says she can last a while longer, maybe even for a day or so, since she’s not in any stressful battle situations. Furthermore, time seems to pass by significantly faster in there. You’ve got a few days once you’re there, it seems. You’ll need to find Allen—remember, he’ll look different. This is pre… um… _accident_ , so he’ll still have brown hair, and won’t have a scar. And, as I believe Mana was the one who gave him the name ‘Allen,’ he may be using some other moniker at the moment.”

“What makes you so sure…” Kanda paused and looked at his hands, curling them into fists and uncurling them, “that I won’t stop existing once I go in there?”

Komui folded his arms and smiled. “We’ve spent the past few hours doing countless experiments. I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I thought you’d… die. Our math is based off extrapolations, but also off of a lot of measurements and hard science. I can’t guarantee that you won’t cease to exist, but I don’t believe you will. My word is all I can give. If you’re unwilling to do this for Allen, I’ll accept that and try to come up with a new plan. But… we need to get Allen out. The sooner the better. The gates are already showing a fair amount of instability and we’ve asked all Order members to stop using them.”

Kanda lifted Mugen off the arm of the couch and stood up. “I haven’t got all day,” he growled.


	3. Chapter 3

Minutes later Kanda stepped out into a landscape seeped in milky sunlight and calf-high brittle brown weeds. There was a light fog and chill hanging in the air, and he couldn’t help but allow a sigh of relief bubble up from his chest.

_You’ll end up where Allen was ten years ago. We haven’t sent anyone else through the gate since Allen went in, so we know it’s still set to where he is._

Kanda rolled up his shirt sleeves and repositioned Mugen’s strap across his shoulder. _No Order clothes. Things would get complicated if you ran into an Order member in this timeline._

This was ridiculous. Yet he walked away from the lightly glowing plane of light and towards the small dirt road with deep grooves worn from years of carriages and wagons.

There was a crow cackling somewhere, and the wind howled through the field. A farming community, Kanda guessed, based on the uneven and hand-hewn fences dotting the area. He picked a random direction—right—and started down the road, looking for some sign of human life.

Soon enough, Kanda spotted a man chopping firewood. The axe thudded into the stump and the man tipped his hat back to wipe his brow before noticing Kanda. He politely in Kanda’s direction and picked up his axe again.

“Have you seen a boy running around here?” Kanda asked as he approached. The man looked up and squinted at him.

“Boy? We’ve got a few kids running around here, between myself and the neighbors. Can you be more specific?”

Kanda crossed his arms over his chest. “Around six years old. Probably short.”

“ _Probably_?”

“Brown hair,” Kanda said slowly. Describing Allen using words he’d never associated with Allen was strangely difficult. So he switched to things he did associate with the beansprout. “Smiles too much. Silver eyes. One of his arms is…deformed. The left one.”

The man pulled off his hat and waved it down the road. “Ah. I know who you mean. Little nuisance, that one. Doesn’t smile much though, but he’s got the arm.”

“Where’d he go and when did you see him?”

“Early yesterday morning right about,” the farmer said, pressing his index finger to his lip then pointing towards the horizon. “Ran down the road towards town. Why? In all the time I’ve had to deal with that rat I’ve never known anyone to come looking for him. He do something? You comin’ to take him to an orphanage? Or jail, more likely knowing him.”

Komui wasn’t lying when he said time passed faster in this timeline. Seven hours ago had become yesterday morning.

“More or less. Thank you.” Kanda bowed and began walking down the road, in the direction the man had gestured. He couldn’t see anything except fields and occasional trees.

“If you’re going after him, it’ll take you a while. Town’s nearly an entire day’s walk away. If you’re willing to wait, my son’s going to be heading there with the wagon in a few minutes. He’s gettin’ the horses ready as we speak,” the man shouted.

Kanda hesitated. Walking to the town alone was preferable, but a wagon ride would be faster. _We don’t know exactly how long Miranda will last; we’ve only got her estimates. So take the time you need but don’t waste time unnecessarily_ , Komui’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Thank you,” Kanda said, and he bowed again.

 

The man’s son had messy sandy blonde hair, broad suntanned shoulders, and a fake smile like the beansprout’s. Kanda was wary of it, but the boy ignored his hesitance and began to ramble about his family’s troubles while tugging lightly on the reins of the horse. Rains had been light that year, the crop had been hit by a swarm, his father didn’t have enough seed, the neighbors wanted him to wed their daughter, winter was coming…

Kanda leaned back and stared up at the cloudy, grey sky. A shrouded ball of light hung forty-five degrees above the horizon behind them.

For being ten years ago, this barely felt any different from any other mission, beyond the obvious oddity of finding and dragging a six-year-old Allen Walker to a portal made by a corrupted science experiment and an obliging, nervous Exorcist.

After the first hour, the farmer’s son stopped talking about his woes and began talking about horizons and sunlit fields and breezes. After the second hour, he was rambling about how lonely it was on the farm, just him and his parents and his siblings. At the third hour, he was asking questions like “where are you from?” and “what’s with the sword?” and “how do you keep your hair so beautiful?” that Kanda pointedly didn’t answer. Sometime around the fourth hour he revealed that he had picked up a book on the Chinese language from a traveling merchant and decided to practice on Kanda, who didn’t mention that he didn’t fucking speak Chinese. After the fourth hour, he was sitting too close and smiling too softly and dropping too many hints about doing _things_ with _people_ and by _people_ he probably meant _Kanda_. By the fifth hour, Kanda had counted the lotus seeds he wore around his wrist over two hundred times, each smoothed sphere gliding between his fingers. When they arrived in town after six hours, Kanda successfully ducked away from an attempted hug and offer to share a room for the night at a local inn.

Judging by the season and height of the sun, it was around four in the afternoon. Kanda’s stomach felt sufficiently empty to warrant a meal, and anywhere with food would be a likely place to find Allen Walker, no matter his age.


	4. Chapter 4

The market was still crowded despite the time, although some vendors were beginning to pack up. There were mothers shopping with gaggles of children, elderly couples walking hand-in-hand, husbands and wives squabbling over what a fair price for flour was. Kanda half-expected Allen to come bounding up to him, bag of food in one hand, mission paperwork in the other, with an apple tucked in his mouth. Kanda had somehow grown accustomed to the incoherent attempts at conversation Moyashi made while eating. For being a gentlemanly British boy, Allen had terrible manners when it came to food.

A scream ripped through the market, and the crowd churned as people searched for the source. Kanda, pulled back to the present and out of his memories, slipped through the crowd and honed in on the source of the commotion.

A few yards away a young woman sat on the ground, sobbing about how she’d been _tricked_ and her wallet had been stolen. A man—presumably her fiancé, although Kanda avoided assuming such things—scolded her for trusting a nasty street urchin. Street urchin?

“What did he look like?” Kanda asked. His voice was harsh and the fiancé noticed.

The woman choked back a sob and hobbled to her feet. “He was just a poor scrawny little thing,” she said, “I usually don’t indulge them, but he was just so small and his _arm_ was so hideous I couldn’t help but—”

“Where’d he go?” Kanda interrupted. The woman pointed up the street.

“I saw him turn into one of those alleys. Are you going to get my wallet back?”

Kanda adjusted Mugen’s strap and simply said, “No.” 

He began sprinting down the road and glancing into every alley and side street, pausing to analyze any and all movement until finally, _finally_ , he found a scrawny child crouched behind a rubbish bin, sifting through a small purse.

“Oi, Moyashi!” Kanda shouted. The child stood and turned to face Kanda.

His hair was reddish-brown and tied back in a messy ponytail, his face was dirty, and he was underfed and scrawny. He had an oversized mitten tied around his left hand.

“You a dollymop? The bloody hell you want?” the boy spat.

This couldn’t be Allen Walker.

“What the _fuck_ is a dollymop?” Kanda asked before he could stop himself.

He looked nothing like the Allen Kanda knew. But his eyes… they were definitely Allen’s eyes. Despite a heavy layer of rage and distrust, his eyes were that familiar defiant silver.

“A judy. A ladybird. You daft or sommat?”

“A _lady_ bird? You think I’m a _woman_?” Komui was right. Allen didn’t remember Kanda.

The boy scoffed and folded his arms, carefully tucking his mitten-covered hand into his armpit.

“Hair like that, you look it. What’re you then? A nobbler? A mandrake?” The boy took a step back and bared his teeth. “I won’t let you dab me!”

Kanda dug his nails into Mugen’s hilt and pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead.

“Would you speak _English_ , Moy—” The rest of the name stuck to Kanda’s tongue and refused to be said. Calling Allen _Moyashi_ while he was in this condition was… Kanda couldn’t do it, for some reason.

“I _am_ speaking the Queen’s English. What’re you, a Chinaman? You still haven’t answered my question: the bloody hell you want with me?”

The wallet Allen had been rummaging through had mysteriously vanished, although the bulge in Allen’s sleeve hinted that he wasn’t as good at making things disappear as he would be once he was a sixteen-year-old cardshark.

“Will you just shut up and come with me?”

The boy stepped away until his back was against the dirty brick wall and he bared his teeth again. A front tooth was missing, leaving a gaping hole that certainly made him appear less menacing than he intended.

“No. The hell I will.”

Kanda gritted his teeth and reached out to grasp Allen’s arm. “No, you’re fucking coming with me right now, and that’s—”

Allen pushed himself away from the wall and barreled into Kanda’s stomach, shoving him down onto the ground and knocking the wind out of him. A swift kick to the ribs nearly had Kanda choking and then—Allen was gone.

Kanda fought to catch his breath and stared up at the cloudy sky. Without even realizing it, he had let his fucking guard down in front of this child. For a split second, shame burned across his face.

It was only once he sat up that he realized Mugen was gone as well.


	5. Chapter 5

People seemed to sense Kanda’s murderous aura as he stomped down the street sans-Mugen. They eased out of his way, clearing a path along the street for his blind search. Even without his sword, Kanda was perfectly capable of—and quite tempted to begin—killing everyone in a ten mile radius with his bare hands.

“Fucking rat bastard,” Kanda muttered under his breath. Strangling the brat seemed like the best option at the moment, despite Komui’s loud, repeated, and stern requests that Kanda em>not injure, maim, or murder Allen Walker. Then again, Komui surely hadn’t foreseen Allen’s blatant theft of Kanda’s Innocence. Fuck, Kanda hadn’t foreseen it either.

He kept walking and ground the heel of his palm into his forehead. If he clenched his jaw any tighter, his teeth would probably crack. The thought of that kid running around and probably selling Mugen made his blood burn in his veins.

Kanda paused at a street corner and took a deep breath to clear his head. First things first, he needed to _find_ the brat. Then he could get Mugen back and incapacitate the little shit long enough to drag him back to Miranda’s portal. Once Allen Walker was back to being, well, _Allen Walker_ , he could punish him accordingly.

So Kanda resumed his march through the roads of the small town—which he quickly realized to be a rather large town on the outskirts of an extremely large town—scanning alleyways and back streets for any sign of a scrawny child with messy reddish brown hair tied back in a messier ponytail.

Searching the dirty underbelly of cities was definitely not Kanda’s forte, he was realizing. Lavi and even Lenalee were better at this sort of thing than he was, and it was probably due to the fact that they had lived at least a few days outside of the Order’s control. And despite his terrible sense of direction, Allen was better than all of them combined at searching through backwater cities and eking information out of unsavory citizens. Kanda was beginning to understand where and how Allen picked up those skills.

Upon that realization—or, more honestly, acceptance of what he already knew—Kanda tried to think like the Allen Walker he was reluctantly familiar with.

…Food. Of course.

Kanda smirked and remembered Lavi, back in the Ark, shouting out the names of various edibles and calling Allen to dinner when they were trying to track him down. Even now, even tiny and angry and probably trying to hide from Kanda, Allen would surely be searching out some food.

Turning on his heel, Kanda headed back the direction he had come, towards where the _little shit_ had stolen his _fucking_ sword, focusing on restaurants, the rubbish bins behind restaurants, and other various food-related places instead of just darkened alleyways filled with various vagabonds, prostitutes, and cats.

 

It hadn’t even been half an hour until Kanda spotted a godawful short child exiting a bakery, a loaf of bread tucked under each arm and a muffin jammed in his mouth. It would have been a familiar sight, had Allen Walker not been three-and-a-half feet tall with brown hair and a scarless face.

Kanda marched towards Allen, angry enough that he paid no heed to ideas like strategy and tactics and stealth. He was too focused on the fact that Allen had two loaves of bread, a muffin, and quite obviously _no sword_.

When Allen looked up from his grubby hands and caught sight of Kanda, he froze and his silver eyes widened for a split second. Kanda wouldn’t have even noticed Allen’s fear if it weren’t for his sharp eyes.

Then, before Kanda could grab Allen, the kid spat the muffin in his mouth into his hand, shoved it down his shirt, stuck out his tongue, and ran with two loafs of bread clutched against his chest.

Allen was unearthly fast for his age, and the muffin was a strange lump bouncing in his shirt against his belly with each stride. Somehow he nearly outpaced Kanda even with his short legs. _Nearly_. Kanda had the advantage of being able to shove people out of his way—which he did so willingly, frequently, and often unnecessarily—as he chased after the brat.

The muffin fell out of Allen’s shirt and was crushed under the heel of Kanda’s boot seconds later. Allen didn’t have a chance to glance over his shoulder to see what had happened to his food before Kanda grabbed his collar and ripped him into an alley.

“ _You_ ,” Kanda hissed. He slammed Allen against the wall and pressed his forearm across Allen’s neck. The loaves of bread fell onto the ground and Kanda made a point of stepping on them. It was awkward though, half-bent-over, half-crouched due to the fact that Allen was so damn short. So Kanda dragged Allen’s back up the brick wall until his feet were dangling and he was conveniently at near-eye-level.

A rough choking noise—it almost sounded like a hoarse bark—eked out of Allen’s throat, and he clawed at Kanda’s arm, his ragged nails drawing blood and cutting through skin. Kanda didn’t loosen his grip and instead glared into Allen’s eyes. His pupils were pinpricks, nearly lost in the grey.

“ _What the fuck did you do with my sword?_ ”

“Sold…” Allen coughed out.

Kanda pressed against his throat a bit harder and Allen squeezed his eyes shut. The sharp nails of his ungloved hand raked long bloody lines down Kanda’s forearm for a few more seconds, then began to go limp.

It was only at that moment that Kanda realized he was potentially about to strangle the kid. He ripped his arm back and let Allen collapse onto the ground. Once the brat had finished rubbing his throat and catching his breath, however, Kanda crouched in front of him and pressed him up against the wall with his forearm digging into the brat’s neck again.

This time, Allen’s feet remained firmly planted on the ground and the chances of strangulation were minimized.

At this proximity, Kanda realized Allen smelled like shit. Literally. His clothes were dirty and stained, and his brown hair was matted and greasy and knotted. Kanda crinkled his nose and momentarily covered it with his spare hand.

“You smell disgusting,” Kanda said.

And he did. He smelled nothing like Allen Walker. Allen smelled clean, and always took time to bathe even if they were in the middle of a mission. Kanda did too, and he supposed standards of hygiene were one of the few topics the two could agree on. Allen usually smelled like vanilla and mint, never like… _this_.

“Bloody _blower_ ,” Allen hacked, “You’re just miffed I… I blagged your blasted sword.”

“Speak _English_ , goddamnit, and tell me what the hell you did with my sword!” Kanda hissed. He felt like shouting threats into Allen’s face, but they were right next to a main street and Kanda didn’t feel like dealing with the police if someone overheard him. Street urchin or not, the cops likely wouldn’t take kindly to Kanda assaulting a small child in their town.

“It looked like ream swag, so I took it to a duffer.”

_Ream swag_? _Duffer_? “Where’s this _duffer_?”

Allen didn’t respond and instead started clawing at Kanda’s arm again. Kanda pressed against his throat for a second, and Allen coughed.

“It’s… It’s down the street, ‘bout four blocks. Just looks like any trinket shop but the daft man put your blooming sword in his window right away, once I told him you were an idiot Chinaman dollymop.”

“I’m not Chinese, you fucking idiot. Where’s the money you made selling it?”

At that, Allen kicked Kanda in the shin. He could feel the bone crack and he flinched. Pain hissed up his leg and throbbed for a second, but Kanda kept pressing his forearm into Allen’s neck. Bone cracks healed in a matter of minutes for Kanda, and he wasn’t going to let the little shit get away from him. Not again.

“ _Where’s the money?_ ” Kanda repeated.

“The gonoph’s gettin’ prigged, eh?” Allen sighed.

“ _English_.”

Allen threw his head back and pointed with his loose hand at his neck. “Your bloody chink’s in the bag.”

“ _Chink_?”

“Push! Couters! Do you speak English?”

Kanda moved his arm away just long enough to pull the little pouch, hanging around Allen’s throat from leather straps, up over his head. The kid’s silver eyes glinted and narrowed as Kanda dumped the contents into the palm of his hand.

Apparently, “chink,” “push,” and “couter” meant “money.”

And there wasn’t much of it.

" _Bullshit_ ,” Kanda said. “Where’s the rest of it?”

Allen stared down at the money in Kanda’s free hand and blinked. “That’s all the duffer gave me. Said the sword’s only worth a few, gave me half what he’d be selling it for.”

Kanda closed his fist around the money and met Allen’s eyes. Allen tried to move further away from him, pressing against the brick wall so hard he winced, but Kanda’s arm against Allen’s neck kept him pinned.

The duffer—whatever the hell that meant—had clearly ripped Allen off, but the kid didn’t even realize it.

“We’re going to go get my sword back and then you’re coming with me,” Kanda said.

Allen’s eyes widened and he began to kick and push against Kanda as hard as he could. He was strong for his size, Kanda noticed, especially when another kick to Kanda’s shin spread even more burning cracks through the bone. But, when Kanda didn’t budge, Allen ducked his head and sunk his teeth into Kanda’s forearm.

For a second—a single second—Kanda reflexively jerked away. Allen took the opening and disappeared into the street, running faster than Kanda had ever seen him move. He tried to stand to chase, but his fucking leg hadn’t finished healing and Kanda had to pause, lean against the opposite wall, and wait for a moment.

He didn’t heal as fast as he used to, and somehow those kicks to his shin hurt more than half the akuma attacks he’d taken.

It was only once Kanda looked up at the wall he had pinned Allen against that he noticed how rough the brick was. He saw how many small pieces of dirty fabric were snagged on the edges and the bloody streaks, bright against the dull red, from when he had dragged Allen up to eye-level by the neck with a crushing grip.

Kanda clutched his stomach, leaned over, and threw up.


	6. Chapter 6

Kanda alternated between watching the cuts and scratches on his arm heal and staring at Allen’s blood staining on the opposite wall. There wasn’t that much blood, to be honest, and it wouldn’t even be noticeable if Kanda hadn’t already known it was there. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off it for long.

“Fuck,” Kanda muttered as he pushed himself off the opposite wall. This was not how things were supposed to be going.  
It was a bit further of a walk than Allen had made it sound, but Kanda eventually found the shop where Allen had sold Mugen. In fact, Mugen was sitting proudly in the display case, glinting in the quickly waning sunlight. Kanda breathed a sigh of relief. At least the little shit wasn’t a liar.

The door chimed and Kanda stepped up to the counter between him and his sword. There was a middle-aged man there with glasses reading a book, but he looked up when Kanda approached him.

“That’s my sword.” Kanda pointed behind the man at Mugen.

“You can buy it, if that’s what you mean.”

“You purchased it from a small child who stole it from me. Give it back now, before I kill you.”

The man’s eyes widened. “The kid said he got it off some Chinese whore, not…” he swallowed thickly.

“Give me my sword,” Kanda repeated. “I can kill you with my bare hands thousands of different ways. Return the sword and I’ll let you live.”

“Um…” The man began to reach for something under the counter, but before he had a chance to grab whatever it was, Kanda had jumped onto the counter and put the heel of his boot against the man’s neck.

“My sword, please.”

The man stared up at Kanda, his weak watery eyes meeting Kanda’s steely black ones. Finally, the man nodded, leaned back, and lifted Mugen off its temporary display stand without breaking eye contact.

“Your sword, sir.”

Kanda wrapped his hand around Mugen’s hilt and unsheathed it. The blade looked intact, the balance was perfect. The man hadn’t done anything to the sword, by the looks of it, but he’d have the Science Department check it over when he finished this damned mission. Without stepping off the counter, and without removing his boot from the man’s throat, Kanda eyed the price tag and did some quick—or, at least, quick by Kanda’s standards—math.

It was approximately three hundred and fifty times what he had paid Allen. For some reason, that fact made Kanda’s blood burn.

“You ripped that kid off.” Kanda eased off the man’s neck and jumped down onto the floor, the vibrations of his landing making a display stand collapse.

“Um…”

“The kid you bought this off of. You ripped him off. You knew what this sword was worth. Or, at least you thought you did.”

“He’s just a street urchin. The fact that I even paid him in the first place is practically charity.”

“Fuck you,” Kanda spat. He gripped Mugen’s hilt and left, taking the time to knock over another display case before slamming the door behind himself.

The sun was completely set by now, and all the shops were beginning to close except for a few late-night restaurants. He hadn’t eaten yet, but he felt tired. Drained, more like. An inn sounded like a good idea. Tracking down Allen in the dark would be difficult, maybe even impossible considering that, even with a sense of direction so bad it was nearly a self-willed determination to get lost, Allen knew this town better than he did.

Allen.

Where the fuck did he even sleep? Some back alleyway? Or was there possibly a kindly church that would keep abandoned children safe for the night?

No. Kanda had spent his entire life working in the church. In his experience, they wouldn’t open their doors for some good-for-nothing child, especially not one that smelled like he’d rolled around in horseshit. Which, considering the life little Allen Walker was currently living, was definitely a possibility.

Kanda adjusted the strap on Mugen and began walking down the street, forcing himself away from the pawn shop before he decided to slice it to pieces. He lazily scanned the various building facades for signs indicating a nearby inn, but he also found himself checking down alleyways, looking for… something.

Kanda didn’t feel like thinking about what he was looking for exactly.

That is, until he found it: a shaky child—three-and-a-half feet of rage—blocking his way and clutching a blunt knife in his dirty right hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I didn't realize that my AO3 posting was two chapters behind my postings on ff.net and tumblr. Here's the two most recent chapters!
> 
> Sadly, I'm dropping this story. Thanks for sticking with me so long on it. As much as I enjoyed writing it in the beginning, I haven't been able to move forward with the plot and it's just not as much fun for me to write anymore. With the combined stress of senior year of college, work, and new ideas I just don't have the time, energy, or motivation to keep working on it. I'd apologize to each and every person reading this note if I could.
> 
> I hope that someday I'll be willing and able to finish this story up, but if that does happen it probably won't be for along time.
> 
> Again, I'm really sorry. I know a few of you enjoyed this based on the kudos I've gotten, and I'm very thankful for your constant motivation. I'm definitely going to keep writing fanfiction, just not this one.
> 
> \- Jana


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this chapter being so short - this is what I'd written before I put Clepsydra on hiatus. BUT, I've decided that I'm going to try my best to finish this fic. I don't know how long it will take me, and my writing style has definitely changed since I last worked on it, but I'll try to get a new chapter up within the next few weeks.

Allen could barely stay standing, and his left hand, angry red skin buried under an oversized mitten, steadied him against the brick wall of the building next to them. Kanda snorted. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to rob me?” He didn’t take his eyes off Allen, whose silver eyes bored into him with a hazy rage vaguely reminiscent of what he looked like when the 14th tried to take over.

“Gimme the sword.” Allen’s voice was quiet and shaky. He repeated himself at a louder volume after taking a deep breath. “Gimme your bloody sword.”

Kanda held up Mugen. “This? You think you can win against me with that stubby little knife?” He knocked the blade out of Allen’s hand with the tip of his still-sheathed sword, and it went skittering into the cobblestoned street.

Allen jerked his hand back and clutched it against his chest.

“Gimme your sword,” he tried again.

Kanda sighed and pressed Mugen against Allen’s neck. Allen didn’t flinch. Kanda tilted his head and kept watching the little boy as he struggled to stay on his feet. “Why the fuck would I give you my sword?”

Allen’s eyes darted to the puny knife glinting in the street then returned to Kanda’s hard gaze.

“You…” Allen’s voice cracked. “You took my food!”

“What the fuck are you talking about!”

Allen’s face slowly reddened and he bit his lip for a second. “You chased me, stole my money, stepped on my food, and chased me away! Now give me your bloody sword and bugger off!”

Kanda felt his arm lower Mugen of its own accord and did nothing to stop it. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Allen looked down at the ground and clutched his right hand even tighter to his chest. “I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

Kanda turned on his heel. When Allen didn’t follow him, Kanda stopped and turned back around. Allen still stood there, left hand anchoring him to the wall, staring down at the ground beneath his feet.

“I’m getting dinner,” Kanda said loudly. Allen looked up. “Come on, you shitstick.”

Allen cautiously followed Kanda from a few paces behind. He was justifiably wary, but followed nonetheless.

 

The restaurant was a three-star sort of place, which Kanda didn’t care about because he planned to put the entire bill on the Black Order’s tab anyways. But the staff did eye Kanda—by this point covered in dirt and blood and with an even harsher scowl than his face normally bore—with curiosity. They regarded Allen—a small, dirty, smelly child covered in tattered clothes—with outright concern.

Allen sat across from Kanda, knees pulled up to his chest, and eyed the silverware. His gaze was consistently drawn to the butter knife and Kanda considered confiscating it.

They sat there in silence until a waitress came, and Kanda promptly ordered the entire menu as Allen stared on with his mouth wide open.

“You have the appetite and metabolism of an entire Italian army,” Kanda hissed, “or did you forget?”

Allen continued to stare at Kanda unblinkingly. He furrowed his brow. “Why do you talk like you know me?”

On the one hand, Kanda was relieved that Allen was finally speaking some form of English Kanda could understand. On the other hand, he had no fucking clue what to do with that question.


End file.
